Rejected but well intentioned!

Let’s go back to those glory years, yeah, you got it—-I’m talking about the 80’s people!
The hair was out to there, the cowboy boots up to here, and we didn’t have to worry about drunken cell phone pictures showing up on goddamned Facebook every Monday morning!

It’s been well documented that yer ol pals here at the CH3 stables went through a familiar…… metamorphosis way back when.

You see, the late eighties were a dismal time for hardcore punk. Show after show was plagued by riots and violence, the touring venues got smaller and sadder.
The choice seemed clear: either continue playing at VFW halls with Youth Brigade for a knot of bald fifteen year old boys, or sell our souls and hit the Sunset Strip.

There, the skanks hanging at the The Rainbow had fake leather skirts, real apartments in Venice, breasts like Baked Alaskas, ……..and money!

Hmmmmm….what to do, what to do?

Nice doing business with ya, Satan! Now hand us our fringe leather jackets and aviators, will ya, ’cause we’re fuckin outta here!

…..flagrant abuse of Aqua Net Pink directly responsible for the Ozone gap that hovers over Angola….

Oh, other punk acts found their own way to evolve in those nutty times, but we managed to find a quite unique middle ground: too rock and roll for the punk rockers, and too raw and scruffy for the metal fans.
In other words, we had concocted the chemical equation to alienate any and all fans! Perfect!

Sure, we put out a couple releases on the upstart Enigma label. But we’ll get to those gems at a later date, when the therapy has done its job.
Today let’s go beyond those heady times and see what the fellas did after their desperate grasp at stardom!

See, people always assume we spent those wild years in the Aqua Net wilderness as another heavy metal poof act on the strip.

No, not really.

Oh sure, maybe we started to look a little…different:

Big hair, Flashdance-style ripped mesh top with cowboy boots– your transformation to the Dark Side is complete!

Dropped from Enigma and jobless, we spent countless afternoons watching Cocksucker Blues and The Last Waltz back to back. And although we also watched MV3 in hopes of catching the odd WASP video, I could tell we were intrigued by a slower tempo, a simpler tone.

Jay had been a battle-weary veteran of the early punk years, the Sunset Glam years, back into the hardcore fray with us, and then through the hellish Label Showcase wringer.
He’d been around, and I believe he’d had enough of hearing a Les Paul plugged into a cranked Marshall half stack to last 3 lifetimes.

Jay with the Stepmothers, Sept 9, 1957.

So it was with this mindset, an almost–dare I say it!– punk attitude toward doing just what we wanted, we went back into the studio for a new round of demos. The guitars more thoughtful, the screaming less angry….had we grown up?

Nah. Bored, maybe. Alienated, definitely.

These tapes sat around for several years, and honestly, I hadn’t heard them untill the wags over at Punk Not Profit posted up the Rejected album online.

Buy it Now price on ebay: 4.95 or trade for Disney Space Mountain Pin!

Wot say? Rejected? And you friggin vinyl nerds thought your mylar-entombed CH3 collection was intact, didn’t ya??

Heh, oh no…. there was another one!

Gadzooks-my collection is incomplete! I shall have to sell my Boba Fett cereal caddy and acquire this gem!!

Rejected was an album that came out on the gutsy little Lone Wolf label out of Canada, where head maniac Jill Heath decided it weould be a good idea to let these odd demo tracks see the light of day. Yeah, that’s right, these tracks were recorded on spec, with not a record label in sight—-demos, rejected demos!! Har—do ya get it?? Rejected?…..Oh, never mind.

Anyway, after downloading these songs, probably along with a half dozen pesky Russian viruses, I took a sentimental listen.

And while I’ll spare you the sample, this record contains perhaps my crowning achievenment as a lyricist. I refer, of course, to the somber College of Love, where our protagonist spews thus:

The broken heart is a common flower
Like herpes at a Red Onion happy hour.

Thank you, thank you. No, really, it was nothing.

Maybe because I am currently obsessed with the PBS reality series Circus, one song that I find a strange gem is Carnival Life.

It features a loping bass line, and a pleading harmonica riff.
We were going for, I believe, a vibe similar to the Clash’s Train in Vain.

What we end up with here sounds like a bastardized cross between Johnny Cougar and Dexy’s Midnight Runners—enjoy!



Carnival Life (Lansford/Magrann)

Well it’s sundown in this small town
12 miles out of Champaign
Seen the same sun set from a thousand towns
But you know it’s never quite the same

The lights come on, generators hum
And sawdust swims the air
Well I’ve been all over the whole damn world
But I never seem to get nowhere

It’s been so long since I’ve seen my Mom
I’m drinking far too much every night
I guess that’s what you’ve gotta expect
From this Carnival Life

I remember one September
This outfit pulled through town
I was a restless kid with no Summer left
So I helped them pull the stakes from the ground

Yeah, but I’m feeling so damn old
My trailer’s so damn cold
What have I missed for a life on the road?
Suburban life, kids and a wife-
Movies on a Saturday night?

Well it’s showtime, see this long line
Have your tickets out please
Guess I always wanted to be a Star
But I never learned to act or to sing

But it’s time now for the next town
Besides what else what would I do?
Ain’t it true you gotta love what you are, in the end?
Even a carny with some ugly tattoos

We’re driving though the night, we’re headin for the Light
There’s a Stuckey’s up ahead to the right
I guess I am just a happy man
Because I love this Carnival Life

So what ya think?


Oh C’mon now—it’s catchy, right?
You tell me we couldn’t sell this baby to Tim McGraw and live like Persian exchange students for the rest of our lives!!

Photos of the Rejected release party w/ Al Bloch, Mike Dimkitch and Ron Wood:

yeah, yeah, those are leather pants—let’s see a goddamn picture of what you were wearing in ’89!!!

But if there’s one tune that really sums it all up, our mindset at the time, it’s gotta be album closer Far From Home.
Basic as any thrash song in 3 chord simplicity, we unabashedly glom the Stonsey vibe and tell the tale of the road. Weary vocals, every goddamn Richards riff Jay could think of, and more than 6 wooos!, this baby was obviously never meant to see the light o day—but I like it! Sounds like a roadtrip, yeah?

Oh yes, we were still touring at these later days, and we went from town to town extinguishing every last drop of Punk Rock goodwill and credibility we had ever earned.
Let me tell you, when I pulled the ol’ harmonica out onstage, more than one mohawked crusty would burst into tears and go running out the club’s backdoor, never to be seen again!

So listen now to this hardy tale of travel, and allow the boys to ride into the sunset as the music fades out at 3:15…..but what tha?
Oh ho, yeah, we got ya, the song fades back in again!! Clever, clever!….and then we fade out again, only to come crashing back for that last terrible, confused coda.

Those final notes.
As if we knew our time on stage was up, and even as we are dragged off stage-left, we claw desperately at the scenery.

Clinging to a final and precious moment in the spotlight.

Far From Home (Lansford/Magrann)

Got a half of tank of gas, some Camels on the dash
And we’re singing with George Jones
Driving though the night and headin for the Light
Of a Stuckey’s down that road

Well God, I love this country in the dark
Where every city looks the same from inside of a bar
Far From Home

And no one knows your name or asks you for some change
For the jukebox on that road
Well, it’s funny how it seems the girls don’t act so mean
Like the ones we know back home

I never I thought I’d see
The sun rising from the Sea
So come and have a drink
With the boys of Channel Three

Our Last Gig: Shakedown San Diego

Repeat after me: We do not whack off to punk rock flyers!

It’s with happy hearts and twinkling eyes that we journey South toward the new Shakedown in San Diego.

The trusty road crew has gone ahead, so we have time to meander along the darkening coastline.

Radio plays a Clash song, and cupped hands are held out of open windows to float along the jetstream: Flesh colored birds rushing home to the nest, bellies filled with crickets to be regurgitated into the mouths of the next generation.

First stop is The Fish Joint in Oceanside, where the crew knows their audience, brother!

The Misfits’ Walk Among Us blasts out of the speakers on a continuous loop as we fall upon dish after amazing dish.
It’s Danzig’s pleading moan that drives us to consume one nigiri jewel after another…….

We finally beg them to stop, but really—who can say no to just one more sliver of fresh water eel or garlic infused halibut, reclining majestically on it’s final pillow of fluffy sushi rice, hmmm?

We thank our gracious hosts for the lovely food and hospitality and waddle back out to the ride.
Sated on rice, delicious sea creatures and countless missles of Sapporo, we squeeze behind the steering wheel and make our way down to the club. you see what it says? Hmm? Legends!! We told ya so!

The Shakedown is the new hep joint down yonder, and for good reason!

Dead Ted started things off with a bang, booking Fear, DI, Agent O, etc within the first couple weeks, leaving all the other San Diego clubs scrambling to book their venues with Whitesnake cover bands and puppet acts!

Kimm and Dead Ted!

Now yer talkin Punk Rock club bub!
This joint serves a fine selection of Malt Liquors, giant cannisters of PBR, and the usual assorted brown liquids that make for a funny night!

Backstage action......

Plus, these people treat the bands like champs, providing booze, snacks, not to mention swanky sleeping arrangements for the fellas to steal a quick pre-show snuggle!

shhhh...don't wake the cubs!

Our kind of crowd!!

Goddamn it, can you people not flip us off for 2 seconds while I take a photo to show Mom?

We take to the stage and, Bonus! they play a steady stream of Korean slasher Porn behind you while yer playin!

What, have these guys been eavesdropping on our dreams or somethin’ ??

Wha? You say what's happening behind me??!

A few techinical problems, but that’s why we pay such a handsome salary to Tbone, sound/light/stage technician extraordinaire!

What's the problem here?

But here’s where things quickly went strange:

Oh dear....


..again, please! For the love of God--- No!

Gaaaa! My eyes!!


Dawn breaks clear on Saturday morning.
The incessant bark of the seagull, the jackhammer knock of the Ecuadoran maid.

These are the things that bring us out of a sweet sleep, only to confront what has been witnessed.

We drive a few listless miles North, each of us trying to grasp how to explain this to the wives and kids back home.
We have looked directly into the eyes of the demon clown…and he was angry!

Nothing a quick stop at Capn’ Keno’s in Carlsbad won’t fix!

We gulp Bloody Marys in the feeble hope they will erase the pictures that have been burned onto retina and cornea alike!

Sweet Jesus, take the images from my head!

Men have returned from wars with a distant, gray look in their eyes.
They have witnessed the unspeakable, and yet these hardy men go on to lead productive lives. Am i right?

So with country gravy greased fingers, we make pinky promises to never speak of the night again.

That goes for you too.

...and after!

Catching up with CH3….

And we’re back!

Hey kids.

We’ve been getting a lot of concerned telefaxes over here at the ol CH3 command center— apparently a lot of you have been worried about the lack of activity here in the punkblog web-o-sphere.

Sheesh! Not getting enough free content to read on your Iphones while yer sitting on the toilet at work? Hmmm?
Yeh, we see you, ya bastards!

In fact, authorities showed up at the venerable Channel Tres Clubhouse out in the rugged Hills of Chino, acting on concerned queries.
They were fully prepared to find a ghastly scene……rotting corpses, crazed kittens drunk on human flesh.
Pyramids of Coors Light cans:

...mmmhmmm, yes but those are light beers, got me? Light!

What the fuck? Leave us alone, we always sleep like this!

No, no….nothing so drastic.

The crew just needed a little time off to recharge the batteries after a hectic Summer finally waned.
It’s healthy, ya know, to take a little time for yourself.

Charity work with the strays, knitting circles by the sea….these are the type of things that keep a band sane and hungry for more.

What? We’re not allowed to take a little time off over here?
Oh, you people take and take, and when there’s nothing left…you take a little more!!!

That’s right–drink up little monkeys, and now dance! Dance for us, and dance pretty!!

Mr. Magrann? Gardener? They're waiting on you for soundcheck please...

So let’s catch up with the fellas and see what they’ve been up to, and what’s in store!!

Besides these swanky new blog digs, the fellas have been hard at work in the studio…..

Alright, break's over! These hits ain't gonna write themselves ya know!

What say? New songs?
Gee, and we were just getting used to playing Manzanar for the tweleve thousandth fucking time!!!

Shut up you babies, it’s not like we’d ever have the audacity to play anything new live, right?
What with the California smoking laws these days, playing new material only insures there will be a dangerously illegal capacity on the smoking patio at Alex’s!

Hey! you guys can come back in--they're done playing that new slow shit!

Look for your ol pals on the upcoming Christmas Compilation on Blackhole Records.
Should be just the thing to liven up this year’s company holiday party!

Also, a little road work coming up:

Just babies, I tells ya!

Back to AZ!
No no, this is just the artist's interpretation of the Globalization Economy further exploiting the proletariat of the Third World working.....ah fuck it, yer right. It's some guy gettin shot in the head!

But more important than all that, the big news at CH3 base camp is that Walt’s Wharf has jumped into this nutty flatbread craze with a solidly respectable salmon/artichoke entry:

It's good. But then again, drizzle some creme fraiche and dill on a soiled Doc Martin and we'd eat that too!

But I know what yer saying…..what have the fellas been doing these past couple months?!
Oh, I know. We disappear from the media’s relentless glare for a few weeks and you people always jump to the same conclusions: rehab and cosmetic surgery!!

Well, I’ll have you know we used our sabbatical for much more ambitious pursuits!

Kimm, he spent the Autumn break on the Great White Way, developing a new Broadway Musical with toast of the town BJ Armstrong!
We’re all excited for opening night!

Working Title: Boulevard of Broken Dreams...or, Let's See How Much Crap the Kids Will Put Up With Til Our Credibility is Gone Forever!

We were all grateful, of course, to have Anthony and Alf back safely from Chile.

You Boys don’t scare us again like that!!

.....the boys kept spirits high with their tales of cutting in line for lunch at the Warped Tour!

And yer ol pal Magrann?
Well, let’s just say I went for a more spiritual diversion!

Uh oh....

Although my ordination as a legal minister was originally to perform a single Wedding Ceremony:

Alrighty then! Stomp on the glass, light the incense, whatever.....I'll be at the bar if ya need me!

We soon realized the Tax benefits if we merged the band with an established Religion!
I mean, think of it!

How far removed is a band from its own little cult anyway, what with the Facebook and the T shirts….the ritualistic drinking of the wine and the sacrifices, hmm?

So join the Church of CH3 today, won’t ya?
What’s the worst that could happen?!

We're going on a very special journey tonight!

Stay Tuned for the Holiday stretch with your pals @ CH3!